What's a Brother Really Worth?
by Jill O'Brien
Summary: Labyrinth/For Better or For Worse parody fic. Like Sarah, Fran Caine didn't expect anything to happen. Unlike Sarah, Fran's stepmother really is a harpy and she has reason to loathe her brother. What will she do when Jareth offers her the crystal?
1. Chapter 1

Françoise Caine hated her name and was going to change it when she was old enough, which was five long years away. She hated the way her dad and stepmom, Liz, still insisted on calling her Francie even though she'd told them she hated it. In the lower grades, she'd been called Franny Fannie and now some of the really annoying boys at school called her Frankenstein after she had people start calling her Fran, because of how her name sounded when the homeroom teacher took attendance in the morning. She was so definitely going to change her name. She was also going to get a tattoo (or maybe two) and lots of piercings in each ear and a belly ring and dye her hair some outrageous color.

She was also going to track down her real mother, Therese, when she turned eighteen and demand to know why she'd decided after Fran was born that she didn't want anything to do with her daughter, dumped her on her dad, and then left them both for some other guy. She wasn't really mad that her mom had left her dad. That, she could understand. He was totally pussy-whipped. It was pathetic the way he let Liz totally dominate him and order him around, and he was always telling Fran she should be glad Liz was her mother instead of Therese, who hated her and had never loved her. When she was younger, she'd believed that her real mother was a total monster, but she'd wised up since then and saw through her father's constant tales of how he had no idea why her mom had left him and Fran; that he'd tried so hard to make the marriage work but Therese wanted no part of it. She would have totally ignored everything her dad told her, except (and she knew because she'd been going through her father's and Liz's desks and listening to their conversations for years) her mom had never tried to contact her or have anything to do with her. Maybe her father was actually telling the truth about her mom wanting nothing to do with her.

The one thing she did know for sure, though, is that things would be better if Liz wasn't around at all. Liz had put on a whole act when she'd started dating Fran's dad, acting like she thought Fran was the cutest kid ever and trying to pretend like she was Fran's mom, and she'd attempted to bribe her way into Fran's heart with ice cream sundaes, candy, and toys. Fran, two-and-a-half then, had been fooled at first, but she noticed Liz was always around and Fran never had any time alone with her dad and when she'd made it clear she wanted her daddy to herself sometimes, Liz's Perfect!Mommy act started to fall apart. Too quickly, the truth became clear: Liz didn't really like kids. Liz liked the _idea_ of kids. She liked the laughing and playing cute games and petting puppies and pushing happy toddler on swings and being lauded for the way kids loved her. Liz did not like the _reality_ of kids. When there was crying and scraped knees and blood and snot and diapers to be changed, there were papers to be graded and lesson plans to write and dinner to prepare. When she couldn't conveniently escape the not-fun side of things, Liz resorted to tears and whinging and complaining and blaming others. Fran had tried to point this out to her father when she was five, and realized for the first time other mommies would clean booboos and actually look at the pictures you drew and let their kids give them sloppy kisses even if no one was watching them. She'd told her daddy that she felt like Liz only acted like she loved her when other people were around, but her daddy said that was silly; that Liz loved her all the time. Fran had started to see then that Daddy didn't know the real Liz, and she had started asking God then for one of the other mommies, who loved you all the time and didn't yell for the daddies to take care of the messy/hurt/crying child and act like they had better things to do.

Ever since she was eight, Liz had always had her doing chores around the house and, after they were born, taking care of her brothers, AJ and Toby, and sister, Beatrice, on the weekends when she and Fran's dad went out. Liz didn't seem to realize that left Fran no time for a social life, because she was always pestering Fran about why she didn't go out with friends and why didn't she have a boyfriend and how she had been dating Fran's father when she was Fran's age and Fran really should get out more and be social, instead of always hiding away in her room because it just wasn't normal. Fran had told Liz she would go out more if she didn't always have to do chores and take care of her brothers and sister, and Liz had yelled at her about being a brat and trying to dump everything on her and get out of helping around the house and how tired she and Fran's dad were at the end of the day and was it so much to ask for a little assistance. That was, of course, accompanied by lots of sobbing and Liz making herself out to be the victim of an uncaring stepchild. Fran, of course, had escaped up to her room and locked the door before her dad came along and started chewing Fran out for making Liz cry and feel bad about herself.

The only member of Liz's family Fran liked was April, who was younger than Liz and Mike and the only one who didn't act like a total nutcase. How Aunt April had managed to avoid that, Fran had no idea, but she suspected it had something to do with April pretty much being ignored and dismissed by her family once she stopped being a cute, cooing baby. After high school, April had chosen to go to a vet school out west and live with Liz's dad's ("Grampa John, I insist!") brother and sister-in-law in Manitoba between semesters. Whatever the reason, April was really awesome. She actually took what Fran had to say seriously, which her dad and Liz never did. It was too bad she lived out in Manitoba, working in a vet practice with her cousin, Laurie, but at least there was email. April probably would have moved back East, but by the time she graduated vet school, she had become a vegetarian, gotten some tattoos and five holes in each ear which, according to Elly, Liz's mom ("Call me Grandma Elly, Frannie!"), meant April had been corrupted by the liberal agenda all universities brainwashed students with and Elly felt it was her duty to preach at April and pester her back into the right way of thinking.

"Flee! Flee before it's too late!" April had teased in her last email. "Not that I'm encouraging you to come out here, and if you did decide to, of course I'd have no idea about that, but if you did, I'd never say you could stay with me and Jen" –April's partner— "and neither would Laurie or Aunt Maude and Uncle Joe. If you did happen to show up, though, and tell us you'd dropped out of school and run away—both of which you can legally do at sixteen, by the way—we'd be so horrified we'd never even think of suggesting you get your GED and Jen and I would never offer to cover your university costs so you can study photography like you want, instead of going to university for teaching, like my sister says you must if she and your dad, who'll just parrot whatever Liz says, are going to pay." Fran had immediately replied that she was disappointed April was so uptight, but if that's how it was, she'd immediately put any ideas like that right out of her head. Oh, and would April mind finding out what she'd need to do to officially drop out.

It was May of her grade ten year, and, for once, fifteen-year-old Fran Caine didn't have anything to do after school. None of her teachers had assigned any homework, and Liz's mother had Fran's brothers and sister for the day. Fran was sure if she went home after school, there would be a long list of things Liz wanted Fran to do before she got home from work, so Fran went to the mall with her BFF, Marcie, to look at summer fashions and check out all the hot guys. That way, when Liz yelled at her because nothing was done, she could honestly say she'd never seen the list so how could she have known. Liz was also the one who wanted her to get out more and do things with friends, so Fran had only been doing what Liz wanted her to do. Liz would yell more, Fran's dad would tell Fran to cut Liz (who he referred to as "your mother") some slack and it wouldn't kill her to help around the house, and Fran would go up to her room and read. Downstairs, Liz would fall into her father's arms, weeping about how she tried so hard to be a good mother and why didn't Francie accept her, and her father would comfort Liz, saying Fran had taken her mother's leaving when she was just a baby hard and Fran would eventually see what a great mom Liz was to her and she and Liz would get along great. Things usually went like that in the Caine household.

Over pizza and milkshakes in the mall's food court, Fran and Marcie talked about how totally uptight and oppressive their parents were about dating and how their teachers were just, like, totally loading them down with homework.

"I can't believe Mrs. Perkins, like, wants a two-page paper about how Ontario's Parliament works," Marcie griped, stabbing a French fry into the little paper cup of ketchup on her tray. "It's so boring and I'll never be able to, like, write that much!"

Fran nodded sympathetically. "I totally hear you. April, like, totally helped me out with that when I had to, like, write a paper for Mr. Francis' Government class last month. She sent me the one she'd written when she, like, took the class that she'd gotten a B on."

"Is that the one you, like, got an A+ on?"

Fran nodded, grinning.

Marcie's jaw drooped open for a moment before she pulled her mouth shut. "No way!"

"Totally. It was April's idea. Dad and Liz were, like, so proud of me they said I wouldn't have to spend as much time taking care of their brats anymore."

"So you could, like, spend more time on your homework and, like, get straight A's." Marcie rolled her eyes. "I'm, like, so glad your parents, like, never told my parents about that or, like, I'd be locked in my room all the time, forced to, like, study all the time."

"It's all about getting scholarships and grants to top universities." Fran snatched several fries off Marcie's tray and eating them before Marcie could grab them back. "But only schools with good teaching programs, of course."

"You're, like, still planning to, like, move in with April and Jen next year, right?"

Fran nodded. "It'll suck to leave you and Marc and John and Rachel, but, like, I swear I'll scream and start killing people or something if I have to put up with Liz and my dad always taking her side and their stupid little brats much longer. Thanks for holding onto my diary and camera and stuff, by the way. Liz and my dad would, like, totally have a complete fit if they knew I was still in the photography club at school and they'd go totally postal if they found out John asked me to the end-of-year dance next month. They're so repressive about dating. Liz thinks I'll, like, turn into some kind of flirt and tease and start dating lots of guys at once and just be, like, a total slut or something." Fran, smirking, met Marcie's eyes. "It's like she thinks I'll end up like her or something." The two girls giggled loudly, remembering what they'd read when they were twelve and had found Liz's old diaries in the attic of Fran's house.

"She, like, doesn't want you to risk, like, making the same mistake she did and, like, start dating a guy who isn't, like, whiter than sandwich bread," Marcie said dryly. "She's afraid you might actually, like, marry him and have little half-breed children."

"It would be horrible, wouldn't it?" Sarcasm dripped off Fran's words. "Terrible thing, little savages running around half-naked, undisciplined, ignorant of manners and decent behavior, causing trouble for the neighbors and their teachers at school." She finished off the last of her milkshake. "I don't know why that would bother her, though. AJ's like that and she thinks he's perfect."

"She also thinks her brother is, like, some sort of great writer." Marcie laughed as she stood up with her tray. "My English teacher, like, uses his novels to, like, demonstrate how _not_ to write. How does he, like, keep getting published, anyway?"

Fran shrugged and followed Marcie to the nearest trashcan. "Who knows? Maybe he's sleeping with someone. Or not. He's too busy trying to write, like, the next great Canadian epic novel for that."

The girls were walking into Chapters when Fran stopped and grabbed Marcie's arm. "The poster in the window." She pointed with her free hand at the window poster advertising _Labyrinth_ as a classic for the low price of 10.99. "Liz totally loves that movie. I swear she, like, watches it a million times each weekend. I think I could recite the entire thing, like, in my sleep. I used to like it but she plays it so much she ruined it for me and now I hate it. She's probably going to, like, buy this stupid new disc and play all the special parts over and over until I hate them, too."

"You're breaking my arm, dear. Let go."

"Sorry." Fran dropped her hand. "I just really hate how Liz plays it all the time. I totally sympathize with the main character, Sarah. I know exactly what she feels like, with a stepmother who won't get off your back and always having to take care of your obnoxious younger siblings."

"Just AJ. Bea's a total angel and Toby's only six months old. Babies are supposed to fuss and cry and make a mess of everything." Marcie studied the poster for a moment. "The evil guy wouldn't be so bad if he had better hair."

Fran nodded. "And less eye shadow and better clothes. It was made in the Eighties, though. Looking like a total freak was normal then."

"I'm home!" Fran yelled as she slammed the front door of her house behind herself.

"Make sure you take your shoes off!" Liz's voice came from the kitchen. "I don't want any more dirt tracked onto the carpet! And don't slam the door!"

"Tell AJ that," she muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes. Only Liz would blame her for muddy prints made by a sneaker with a sports car in the tread and Fran had learned years ago that pointing out the obvious was a waste of time and breath. It seemed only fair Liz should have to waste time and breath as well, which was why Fran made a point of always slamming doors as often as possible when Liz was around.

After taking off her shoes, Fran padded into the kitchen to get something to drink. Liz wasn't there, but the sound of running water coming from down the back hall told her Liz was in the powder room.

AJ (wearing his sneakers) was sitting at the table, a tall glass of milk and a plate with several chocolate chip cookies on it in front of him. The area around his mouth was smeared with chocolate and cookie crumbs clung to his chin and shirt, and his upper lip was sporting a milk mustache. Fran pinched her lips together to keep from laughing as she opened the fridge. For once, he looked like a normal little boy, engrossed in the enjoyment of milk and cookies, and she wished she had her camera to capture it.

"MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!" AJ bellowed. "Frannie Fanny's in the fridge and she's taking a big piece of pie!"

'I knew it was too good to last,' Fran thought sourly as she took a can of Coke off the top fridge shelf. 'I hope Liz keeps this short. I need to get on MySpace.' Bumping the fridge door shut with her hip, Fran leaned against the island across from it and popped open the can of soda.

Liz emerged from the powder room a moment later, still dressed from work in what Fran privately referred to as Frump to the Max. Liz looked forty-one going on seventy-five in her prim tailored plum-colored suit (skirt midway down the calf) and cream blouse, the strand of pearls around her neck matching the small studs in her ears. Her black flats and severe bun completed the image of a woman who was old before her time. Liz thought the look became her and Fran's dad (no surprise) agreed, so most of Liz's wardrobe were dark-colored suits, perfectly ironed and starched slacks, and blouses with very little scoop at the neckline in cream, sky blue, ivory, lavender, and grey. Her hair was always in a bun.

"What were you saying, AJ?" Liz asked.

"Franny Fanny was taking a big slice of pie!" AJ, mouth full, sprayed cookie crumbs as he spoke. "She put away the plate and knife when I yelled."

Liz's eyes became hard and she turned her gaze, now angry, on Fran.

"You know that pie is for dessert tonight, young lady. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Fran resisted the urge to make a sarcastic retort. Instead, she said, "Nothing you'd believe, since you've already made up your mind. If you'll excuse me—"

"Do not talk to me that way, young lady!" Liz took a step toward Fran. "How dare you speak to me with such disrespect!"

"How is what I said disrespectful?" Fran worked to keep her voice level. If it shook, it would be from anger but Liz would take it as fear and, like a vicious predator, move in for the kill. "You asked if I had anything to say for myself and I replied that there's nothing you'd believe, and I was asking to be excused so I could go up to my room and read until dinner. So, may I be excused?" Fran raised her eyebrows questioningly.

Liz narrowed her eyes and glared at Fran. "You're as bad as your bitch of a mother, always looking down your nose at me and thinking you're better than me, showing me no respect at all. You have a lot of nerve, accusing your brother of lying for no reason."

"I didn't accuse AJ of anything, Liz, and my mother has nothing to do with this." Fran bit her tongue so hard she could taste blood. "I gave an honest, respectful answer to your question. If it's not what you wanted to hear, I'm sorry, but I'm not going to lie. All I went into the fridge for was a Coke. There is no way I could've put away a plate, a knife, and a fork, which would've required going to opposite ends of the kitchen, and gotten back here before you came out of the powder room."

"So you're saying that it was AJ who was trying to steal some pie?"

"I'm saying anything of the sort and never meant anything like that. Please don't put words into my mouth."

Liz crossed her arms tightly over her chest. "So who was getting into the pie, then? A ghost?"

Fran snapped. "No one was, Liz! NO ONE! Not me, not AJ, not anyone! AJ was stuffing his face with cookies and I was getting something to drink before I went upstairs. THAT IS ALL. Oh, and for future reference, don't yell at me about dirt on the carpet and floors if you're going to let that brat—" Fran nodded in AJ's direction "—keep his shoes on, because _he_ is the one tracking all the dirt and mess in here, and you'd know that if you'd bother to actually _look_ at the tracks and _think_ and use your common sense because if you did, you'd realize IT COULDN'T POSSIBLY BE ME BECAUSE I DO NOT WEAR STUPID SNEAKERS WITH STUPID CARS ON THE BOTTOMS!" For a long moment, the only sound was Fran's ragged breathing. Across the room, AJ was turned in his chair, staring at Fran with an open mouth and expression of shock, with a bit of fear. Liz was still as stone, her lips thin, white lines.

Emboldened by Liz's silence, Fran continued. "I'm sick of always being blamed for everything AJ does and I'm sick of you and Dad always believing AJ over me, no matter what, and I'm sick and tired of you dumping all the housework and taking care of Toby and Bea on me and Dad because you're tired. Guess what? SO ARE WE! You're not the only one who's working all day! I'm at school, doing work in classes and studying, like you and Dad want me to so I can be on the f'ing honor roll! Dad is at work, keeping books for Gordon and his growing retail empire! WE'RE ALL TIRED! ALL OF US WANT TO REST! You're the only one who whines and moans and goes on and on about it, though. You act as if you've been slaving away, doing hard physical labor all day and you barely have the energy to keep your eyes open, and you expect Dad and me to do it all while you rest your delicate little self! After dinner, you say you can't do anything because you have to work on lessons or grade papers and leave Dad and me to clean up and do dishes and take care of the kids. You stop working long enough to read them bedtime stories and tuck them in, and you act as if you deserve a freaking medal of honor for being mother of the year or something! THINK ABOUT SOMEONE OTHER THAN YOURSELF FOR A CHANGE! IT'S NOT ALL ABOUT YOU!" Fran was sobbing now. "You and Dad ride my ass to make straight A's and be on the honor roll, and when I say I need to work on homework and papers in the evenings YOU act as if I'm making up an excuse to avoid having to do housework or take care of the kids and Dad always takes your side, and it's at least nine o' clock before I can finally get upstairs and start working!"

Liz started to speak, but Fran cut her off. "I'M NOT FINISHED! On the weekends, you expect me to watch the kids anytime you want me to, even if it means abandoning MY plans! You expect me to devote the entire freaking weekend to watching the kids while you and Dad go off and have fun. I don't even bother to say anything about how I have projects I need to work on or I had plans with friends because I know you'll just yell at me for being selfish and unwilling to help out and not pulling my load and Dad, because he's spineless and pussywhipped, will nod and parrot what you say! Because YOU are too freaking self-centered to consider anyone else's needs or wants besides your own, **I** am so busy taking care of YOUR children and cleaning YOUR house I barely have enough time to do schoolwork, nevermind actually spend time with friends being a teenager, which you're always on me about. You ride my ass about how I'm always home and never go out and how I should have boyfriends and be just like you were. HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO DO THAT IF I AM ALWAYS TIED TO THE HOUSE? Oh, and you want to know why I don't have a boyfriend? Meredith, who you always say you wish I was like, stole him, just like she steals everyone's boyfriends. Your niece is a TOTAL SLUT. When Mike and Dee think she's studying at the library, the only thing she's studying is the best way to give a guy head or if doing it doggy style is better than sitting on his lap and riding him hard."

Liz slapped Fran hard enough to knock her to the floor.

"That is ENOUGH from you, Françoise Caine! Go up to your room and stay there until your father and I decide what to do with you!"

Fran, hand pressed to her stinging cheek, glared at Liz as she stood up. "Don't you mean what YOU decide? I used to think you were nice and that my real mom was the selfish one. I've realized I was wrong. You're the selfish one, Liz. You only think about yourself and what makes you happy. My mother never made any secret of the fact she didn't want kids but Dad pushed her into it and she was honest when she said he'd be the one raising me and taking care of me. That's not being selfish, that's being honest." She hurried from the kitchen before Liz could say anything.

Instead of going up to her room, Fran left, not caring that it hurt her feet to run on the sidewalk. All she wanted to do was get away. If Liz thought she was just going to sit in her room and wait for Liz tell her father what to do and have her father act as if it was something he'd had a part in deciding, Liz was nuts. Well, she was nuts regardless of if she thought Fran was going to stick around, but she was kidding herself on top of being nuttier than squirrel poo (Fran had loved that line when she read it in _Deathly Hallows_). The only question was where to go.

Robin's was immediately crossed off her mental list. Mike would for sure call her house and Liz would tell Mike her distorted version of what happened (which would probably include Fran viciously attacking her) and make Mike bring her home and then Robin would catch it from Mike and Meredith, even though he'd had nothing to do with it. Marcie's was several miles away and too far to walk, especially barefoot. Yoko was only a few blocks away, but her parents were very strict and would call Liz if Fran suddenly showed up and wanted to do something with Yoko.

"Hell's bells on little white mice," Fran muttered, slowing to a walk as she neared the corner. "Where—ohshit!" Her father's car was just turning the corner and was headed straight for her. Frantically, Fran looked around for somewhere to hide, and spotting a shrub about ten feet away, she sprinted over to the tall bush and crouched behind it, waiting until she couldn't hear her dad's car anymore to stand up and start running again. The shit was totally going to hit the fan now. Fran had a few minutes to find somewhere to hide out while Liz ranted and raved to Fran's dad before anyone was likely to come out looking for her to drag her home and she intended to make the most of it.

At the corner, Fran turned right, remembering a small playground not too far down the street that she'd found several years ago while riding her bike with Marcie. She was pretty sure Liz or her dad didn't know about it, so they wouldn't think to look there. She'd have to go home at some point, but by then, hopefully, Liz would have sobbed herself out and would be in the master bedroom, resting her poor, delicate self and all her dad would do was chastise her for upsetting Liz, make excuses for AJ's being a brat and why he and Liz let him get away with murder, and then tell Fran to go up to her room and stay there for the rest of the night.

The back edge of the playground was a shallow gully that, when there was rain, a stream ran through on its way to the Sharon River. At the moment, though, it was dry, making it the perfect spot to hide out for a while. It was too bad, Fran thought as she made herself as comfortable as she could, she hadn't known about the gully years ago. It was the perfect place to talk to friends without an obnoxious half-brother eavesdropping and telling Mommy and Daddy everything he heard (and plenty of things he hadn't), and not being at the house meant that if Liz wanted Fran to do anything, she'd have to do more than stick her head into the family room and tell Fran to make sure AJ didn't get into the cookies; she was going upstairs to lie down because it had been a crazy day and her feet hurt.

Fran's right butt cheek began to vibrate. Baffled, Fran shifted to see if she'd sat on anything electronic and realized she'd been sitting on her cell, which she'd set to 'vibrate' when she got home from the mall. Chagrined, she pulled it out of her back pocket and flipped it open. She hated that she was the only one at school who didn't have those really awesome earbuds from Lumig, Inc. It was like the old Bluetooth, only way smaller and much cooler and you heard the calls and stuff in both ears, not just one. When she turned eighteen, she was getting earbuds and ditching the cell, total dinosaur that it was.

"Fran the Fabulous, at your service."

"The Lizard just called, looking for you. What didn't you, like, do this time?" The annoyance and resignation in Marcie's tone made Fran smile.

"Well, it started with AJ accusing me of trying to take a slice of the pie for dessert tonight when I went into the fridge for something to drink. Liz, of course, came running right out and was all over me and when I told her I didn't do anything, she immediately jumped on me about blaming AJ, and when I said I'd never said that, she's like, 'So who's taking pie; a ghost?' I swear, sometimes she's just totally dense."

"She's like that, like, most of the time, Fran." Marcie giggled.

"Not always, but sometimes I can't believe she managed to graduate university and get—and keep—a job as a teacher. Hello, have some common sense, please!"

"I, like, totally hear you. So is that it?"

"No. Before that she'd made some snide remark about making sure I took my shoes off, because someone with cars in the tread of their sneakers tracked mud across the living room carpet the other day, and when she was just getting started about the pie she asked me if I had anything to say and I told her it wasn't anything she'd believe and she gets on me for being disrespectful and talking back. I so wanted to tell her to shove it, but I just wanted to get out of there so I kept cool somehow and asked her what was disrespectful and that I could say I hadn't done anything AJ had accused me of but she'd already decided I was guilty so what was the point, and then Liz says I'm just like my 'bitch of a mother' and then got on me for accusing AJ of lying. Whatever. I told her there wasn't any way I could've been trying to take pie and then put away a plate and fork and knife and all that and gotten a soda from the fridge and leaned against the counter like I hadn't been doing anything in the time it took Liz to get into the kitchen after AJ shouted for her. She made the remark about a ghost getting into the pie then and I just totally lost and completely told her off."

Fran grinned. "It felt _so good_ to finally tell Liz what I thought about her and AJ and how I'm sick of her whining and complaining about how I'm always home but she always makes me do everything and acts like me wanting to do homework is just an excuse to be lazy when she's the one who's always sitting around, complaining about how tired she is and how I'm so much more of a mother than she is and she acts like reading the kids a bedtime story makes her Mother of the Year. Oh! This was the best. I told her the reason I don't have a boyfriend is because Meredith, who Liz thinks can do no wrong, stole him and that Merrie's a total slut and when her parents think she's at the library, the only thing she's really studying is how to give good head or doing it doggy style. She looked totally gobsmacked for a moment before slapping me." Fran rubbed her cheek at the memory. "She told me to go to my room and she and my dad would decide what to do and I said that my dad's so pussywhipped he does whatever Liz wants and she's selfish and that she's the bitch, and my mom was forced into having me because Dad wouldn't get off her back and if he was surprised she didn't turn all maternal it was his own fault for not paying attention and that Liz isn't—oh, wait. I didn't say that."

"Didn't say, like, what?"

"That Liz isn't any more of a mother than my mom because both of them put more time and energy into their careers than being with their children and doing things with them, but at least my mom was honest about her priorities. Liz wants a perfect little family with smiling children and a gorgeous house and she's only interested in the happy, shiny moments and makes other people change diapers and handle tantrums and runny noses and when the kids throw up. Maybe I will tell her that the next time she gets on my back. I know she'll find some way to blame everyone and everything else for her choices and she'll explain away why she's not more involved with her kids and how always focusing on her teaching makes her a fabulous mother." Fran snorted. "Of course I'll be the wicked, evil stepdaughter making up horrible slander and she'll tell my dad what to do and he'll just parrot her. Maybe I'll quit just nodding and trying not to laugh at his pathetic spiel that makes it sound like he was actively involved in grounding me and making me watch the kids that weekend instead of going out. As if being stuck in the house is any different than usual."

"I know. I, like, feel so sorry for you. I'm, like, saving some money from, like, my job at the pretzel stand at the mall for when, like, you run away. It, like, won't be much but, like, every little bit helps, right? That's, like, what my dad always says."

"You are so fabulous! April said not to worry about the tickets or anything; she'd take care of all that, so go buy that really awesome dress you saw at The Bay last week that you look so hot in, or something. I really appreciate it, though. You're the best. I'll miss you so much."

"I am so glad we'll, like, be able to stay in touch with, like, those really fabulous new video phones with the big screens. You'll have one, right?"

"I'm sure April and Jen will have one. You know the only reason I use a cell is because Liz looks at all the bills and if she saw I wasn't using it she'd go through all my stuff to see if I was using earbuds, which I would be, and she'd give me hell for that and take them away, even though I'd have bought them for myself with the money I make tutoring. You know how much of my stuff she's taken I've had to get back. You're holding on to most of it."

"Good point. You'll, like, get earbuds when you're in Manitoba, right?"

"Of course! It's going to be so awesome. I can't wait! Not that I won't totally miss you like crazy, of course, but it'll be fabulous not to be like Cinderella and not having a pussywhipped dad and the Lizard and AJ around and actually having time to do my homework and have a life. That'll be the best part, having time to actually get out and _do_ things. And not have to worry about Merrie Patterson stealing my boyfriend just because she can and having to hear from the Lizard and all her family how Merrie can do no wrong and the sun shines out of her ass."

"How do they, like, know if the sun shines out of her, like, ass? Did they, like, ask the football team if they, like, saw anything when they were, like, banging Merrie at that party, like, last Saturday?"

Fran moved the phone away from her face as she burst out laughing.

"Sorry, Marcie," Fran said, lifting the phone back to her mouth when she'd calmed down enough to speak. "Why didn't you tell me you went? Get any good pictures?"

"Fran, weren't you, like, listening to any of the gossip this week? The whole school, like, knows what—and who—went down Saturday night at, like, the kegger the football team had, like, on the other side of the ravine, like, behind Merrie's house, back just enough so, like, there were trees blocking the light of the bonfire and lanterns."

"I was just joking—but how would you know about the fire and the lights if you weren't there? Marcie, it's not nice to keep secrets from your best friend," Fran teased.

"Fran, if I, like, wanted to drink warm beer and, like, watch drunk guys gang bang an equally drunk slut, I'd, like, make Alan share his stash of, like, Labatt's and the MP3 player he, like, has all his porn loaded onto. The guys in the pornos are, like, so much better looking than, like, the boys at school and they, like, actually know how to screw."

"Marcie!" Fran's eyebrows shot up. "How would you know?"

"How do you, like, think?"

"You've watched your brother's porn?"

"Duh! Of course!"

"But how do you know the boys at school don't know how to screw?" Fran felt her cheeks grow hot.

"Because, like, I've heard what Merrie says about them and, like, she's hooked up with guys who go to university before, so she, like, would know."

Fran sighed and shook her head. "Yes, she definitely would. Someone should record her talking shit about the guys at school and play it over the PA system or something so the guys can hear."

"You're a genius! Alan's in the AV Club. I'll, like, threaten to tell our parents about his beer and, like, porno if he doesn't help us. This is, like, going to be so great!"

"I wasn't serious! Not totally, at least. There's no way I could be involved in something like that because if it got back to Merrie I'd had anything to do with it Hel would so totally break loose and Liz's entire family would kick my ass. If you're going to do it, and I'll definitely love you even more if you do, do not mention my name to your brother. As far as anyone but you and me will know, you came up with this whole thing on your own and I had _nothing_ to do with it. Make sure Lizard's brother and his wife get a copy, too, if you manage to record Merrie talking about what a total skank she is."


	2. Chapter 2

Much later, Fran's phone interrupted their conversation with an ill-timed beep

Much later, Fran's phone interrupted their conversation with an ill-timed beep. Glancing at the small screen, she saw 'Low Battery. Power down.' Faced with that inconvenient truth, the girls had no choice but to wrap up their conversation of two hours, but not before Marcie promised she'd talk to Alan that night and tell Fran what he'd said when they met up at Fran's locker the next morning.

The sun was low on the horizon when Fran powered her phone down and her stomach was loudly demanding food, so she decided to head home and face Liz's wrath. This was hardly the first time Fran had left the house after an argument with Liz. It wasn't even the first time that week, though it was the worst and that made it even more important that Fran played things exactly right.

Fran was what educators today would call a gifted child and if those same educators had an opportunity to meet both of her parents it would have been clear to them Fran had gotten her quick mind from her mother. Had Fran been raised by parents who genuinely listened to her and paid attention to the comments from her teachers that her boredom in class seemed to stem from the work not being challenging enough. The situation had improved for Fran somewhat now that she was able to take more advanced classes, but for the most part Fran spent most of her class periods working expert-level Sudoku puzzles and New York Times crossword puzzles, only half listening to what the teachers were droning on about. There'd been some discussion several years back about Fran's chronic habit of never paying attention in class, which had resulted in Liz and her father lecturing her about her rude behavior and lazy attitude toward learning and dismissing Fran's guidance counselor's attempts to make them see Fran was bored because the work was too easy, not because she was lazy. Fran, they said, needed to stay with children her own age. Skipping grades would only result in her feeling out of place and insecure and if Fran finished the work quickly, she could just use the time to go over it and double check and correct mistakes. After Liz and Fran's dad left, the guidance counselor, being quite a good judge of people and accurately assessing Fran's situation, called Fran down to her office.

"You're not in any trouble," Sheila McGrath told Fran, just thirteen at that point. "I just met with your parents."

"Liz isn't my mom. She's my father's wife."

"Of course. Anyway, I met with them and—sit down, please—told them, without mentioning names, about what you've said about being bored and doing the puzzles because the work is too easy and you finish so fast you have nothing left to do while everyone else is still working. I suggested skipping you ahead a grade or two, but they don't feel that would be in your best interest." Sheila spread her hands as if to say 'Don't blame me; I tried'.

Fran scowled. "They don't know what's best for me. The only thing Liz cares about is trying to impress everyone else with how fabulous she is and my dad is so spineless he just does whatever she tells him to do. All she sees me as is someone to take care of her kids for her and do work around the house so she doesn't have to. She thinks because she's stupid everyone else is just as stupid as she is." She crossed her arms tightly over her chest.

"Fran, that's not nice. Your stepmother isn't stupid." Lacking in good sense, though, was entirely likely, and Sheila agreed that the parents didn't seem to know what was best for Fran. "Since there's nothing I can do to get you into harder classes without their permission, I was thinking that I would talk to the vice principal and the school psychologist about allowing you to work on puzzles in class as long as your work is done and you understand the lessons. You par—your father and Elizabeth don't know about this yet, and would I be right in saying they'd be opposed to this?"

"Totally." Fran nodded vigorously.

"Make sure you don't tell them, then." She gave the girl a wink.

Fran's scowl vanished in an instant, replaced with a wide grin. "Thank you, Miss McGrath!" Fran jumped up from her chair and hurried around the desk and hugged her guidance counselor. "Thank you so much! You're the best!"

"I thought you'd like that." Sheila McGrath was relieved when Fran dropped her arms and went back to her chair. Everyone was so sensitive about sexual harassment and sexual abuse and inappropriate touching and contact these days, it was even against school policy for a student of the same gender as the adult to initiate any kind of contact. Sheila absolutely supported boundaries and limits, but it seemed excessive that she could face disciplinary action if someone walked in and saw Fran Caine loosely hugging her. What ever happened to common sense and reason?

"Don't get too excited yet," Sheila continued. "I still have to talk to Mr. Tucker and Mrs. Gratten, and I'm not sure how long it will be before I know one way or the other."

Two weeks later, Sheila sent memos around to all of Fran's teachers, letting them know the girl had administrative permission to quietly work on puzzles during class so long as all work was done and her grades remained consistent. To Sheila's pleasure, once the accommodation was in place Fran's grades actually improved.

There had been a few times when Fran's parents almost found out, but luck was on her side and Miss McGrath still rated as one of the coolest adults Fran knew.

Fran's dad and Liz were of roughly average intelligence. The average bears Yogi Bear claimed to be smarter than, if you will. Yogi had nothing on Fran, though. Fran had never been tested, which is perhaps just as well. If her father and Liz had known how screamingly intelligent Fran was, they'd not only have put her in advanced and gifted classes, they'd have loaded her down with an avalanche of extracurricular activities and pushed her to attend Harvard and become a doctor or lawyer or prize-winning physicist, or something that allowed you to put lots of letters after your name that would impress and intimidate those around you so they could live the kind of interesting, varied, exciting life through her they'd both rejected in favor of a life of bland mediocrity. Yes, it was definitely just as well Fran had never been tested. The pressure for Fran to become a clone of Liz was nothing in comparison to the kind of pressure she'd have received if her true potential was known.

The row that day was hardly the first one that month, or even that week, and it wasn't the first time Fran had left the house in a Mood. Liz treated Fran as if she were just like she had been at fifteen and reacted with confusion and irritation to the fact that Fran was a very different person at fifteen than Liz had been. Liz's solution to the discrepancies between her expectations and reality was to try to make reality line up with her expectations. Needless to say, that wasn't conducive to a peaceful household.

Fran's goal was to make it to her room without being noticed. The first time she'd successfully snuck back in and tried to convince her dad that she'd been in her room the whole time, he bought it and told Liz Fran must've been in her room the whole time because of course someone would've noticed her coming back into the house. After that, it was only a matter of working the kinks out of various re-entry strategies. Sometimes she was caught but, more often, Liz was left fuming because she was certain Fran had left but couldn't figure out how Fran had managed to get back in without being noticed. When your kids can outthink you, parenting takes on a whole new level of difficulty. Since her dad and Liz refused to see Fran as being more intelligent than they were it never occurred to them there were other ways to get in than doors and the windows that looked out over the deck in the back (as if she'd be stupid enough to try to sneak in fifty feet away from the busiest area in the house).

In defense of her dad and Liz, people who had moderately above average intelligence as well would've missed how Fran got back in as well. Their first mistake would be to disregard doors and windows locked from the inside. Anyone who looked for weaknesses in the window frame and casing would see that with all the first and second floor windows, the only side solidly attached to the frame was at the top and the windows were secured to the frame and casing with two metal tabs. Anything the size and thickness of a credit card could be slid in between the window and the casing and used to apply pressure to the tab until it detached from the casing. Do that on both sides and the window swings out and you can climb inside. Re-secure the window to the casing once you're in, and bob's your uncle. Fran had broken into the house a few times that way when she'd forgotten her key and no one was home, but it took too long and made too much noise if you wanted to sneak in.

Kicking open one of the basement windows would've been easy but, again, the noise would attract attention and they were narrow and there was a drop onto concrete and then you had to get up two floors. Definitely not an option.

The main garage door was operated by a garage door opener, so that was out. The side door to the garage was solid and had been fitted with a top-of-the-line deadbolt. If you didn't have a key, you weren't getting in. Period. Lucky for Fran, she'd had a copy of the key made and it was hidden quite well near one of the rose bushes. Once in the garage, she used her dad's workbench, some shelves, and a few strategically placed, well-anchored brackets to climb up into the storage area in the garage rafters.

In the storage area, there is no access to the roof or any vents or openings that connect the garage to the house. The wall the garage does share with the house is solid and, up here, there's a layer of insulation no one bothered to cover over with wallboard for appearance's sake. On the other side of the wall is the attic.

Most people would throw up their hands and this point and say there was no way to get into the house. Those people are not only wussies; they also clearly lack imagination and the ability to think creatively, outside the box. Anyone remaining would be studying the wall, contemplating any potential weak spots they could exploit to make an opening between the storage area and the attic, which is exactly what Fran had done. It had taken a little while, but she'd removed a two-foot by two-foot section of the wall and insulation on both sides. After gluing the pieces of insulation to the wallboard, she'd attached a small handle on each side and magnet strips, hidden under the insulation, on the garage side to hold it in place. If you didn't know where to look, you probably wouldn't see it.

Once Fran was in the attic, she was home free. One of the access doors to the attic was in the ceiling of her closet. Liz and her dad never used any door other than the one at the far end of the upstairs hall, but to be safe Fran had made sure to camouflage her door on both the attic and closet sides.

Fran had been back in her room, reading a copy of _Lady Chatterley's Lover_ that had been disguised as _Pride and Prejudice_, for about half an hour when her dad knocked softly on her door.

"Yeah?" She looked up from the book, marking her place with a finger.

"Liz told me what happened earlier. I'm very disappointed with you."

"When she's calm enough, I'll apologize for snapping and losing it. That was out of line and wrong."

"What about the things you said? Don't you think you should apologize for that as well?"

"For telling Liz that AJ's a spoiled rotten, undisciplined brat who lies through his teeth and I'm sick of you always believing him, even when it's obvious, if you'd just think about it for a minute, he's lying? For telling Liz that I don't appreciate being blamed for tracking mud onto the carpet when AJ is the one with the sneaks that have cars molded into the tread? No, I'm not sorry."

"You said a lot more than that." He sat down at the end of her bed, angling himself so he was looking at her. Anthony Caine had a smaller range of expressions than a cat, so he pretty much looked the same regardless of if he was jubilant or furious. Fran found it both amusing and annoying.

"I know I did. Not sorry about any of that, either, because it's all true. She comes home, sits down to rest and I'm supposed to get the kids snacks. She goes upstairs to change and rest and you and I get dinner going. We clean up after dinner while she goes off to do whatever and AJ and the sprogs go play. She emerges from doing whatever when it's time for the kids to go to bed, which you and I are responsible for getting them ready for, reads a short story, and goes to bed herself. I get to start my homework about then because if I try to before that, I get to hear about how I'm not doing my share around here to help out."

"Francie, we all have to—"

"Do our part, I know. I do. I do _more_ than my part. What does AJ do? Where's Liz, other than always working on stuff for her class, and do not tell me being a teacher takes a lot of work. I know it does. She's also part of this household so she should be doing stuff, too. I have lots of homework and assignments I need to get done and I don't get three or four hours a night, every night. You're always cleaning up after dinner and handling the kids. They're her kids, too! She can chase them around and wipe them up and change diapers and play. If you and I have to put other things we need to get done on hold, why doesn't she? Dad, why do Liz and AJ—especially AJ—get to skeeve off on chores and doing things around here and it all gets dumped on you and me?"

"I'll talk to Liz and see what we can work out." Translation: I'll tell Liz you want more time to do homework and she'll piss and moan about how easy you have it and nothing will change.

"What about weekends? On Saturday Liz sleeps late while you and I have to get up around six or seven to make sure the kids don't make too much noise, and if they do, I'm blamed for it. I'm always blamed for whatever AJ does, even though he's plenty old enough to know how to shut up and sit down and behave like a decent human being. You expected me to when I was nine. Liz gets up, eats her breakfast, gets dressed, goes off to do whatever she feels like while you run errands and I try to keep AJ from destroying the house and Bea and Toby from getting into things they shouldn't. When you get back we do housework. Liz might change the sheets on your bed and start a load of laundry. In the evening, either you and Liz go out and I have to watch the kids or Liz decides to watch _Labyrinth_ for the billionth time and I have to keep the kids quiet and, as usual, it's my fault of AJ's being a little shit. I get to homework around nine. Liz complains that I never go out and do things with friends, but when do I have the chance? If I want to go out with friends, Liz acts like it's a huge deal because she might actually have to skip watching her movie or put her plans on hold because she has to be home with her kids."

Fran's dad sighed. "I'm sorry, honey. I know it's hard. We're all tired at the end of the week and just want to relax and unwind, and—"

"So why do I get so much pushed on me while Liz doesn't do much? Why do my plans get shoved aside and me needing time to do homework treated like a weak excuse to get out of things? Liz said that I'm a bitch, just like my mom. Any time I attempt to defend myself, she yells at me for talking back and being disrespectful. When I say that, no, I wasn't trying to get into the cookies like AJ accused me of or I'm not the one who knocked over the cup of Kool Aid onto the carpet like he said, Liz yells at me about accusing AJ of lying. Dad, why am I the one who's always wrong and getting yelled at? Why is everything AJ says treated like God's absolute truth? You and Liz make excuses for why he refuses to share and hits and slaps and is nasty to classmates and pushes people and budges. When I was his age, if I'd done even half of what he does you'd have been all over me like white on rice for being rude and impolite. Why do I get snapped at if I want one cookie before dinner but he gets to gorge on Oreos and Liz doesn't say anything? Why do I get snapped at for wearing clean shoes in the house but AJ wears his muddy sneakers and walks all over and no one cares, and I get blamed for the muddy footprints." She looked down at her lap for a long moment, willing herself not to start crying. "Dad, I feel like the whipping boy and the one everyone dumps on and like I don't matter and nothing I think or want to do matters. I do more than my share around here and I don't complain about having to do work. I complain when I need to do homework and I'm told to stop trying to get out of it and to quit being lazy. I complain when I've had to take care of the kids for five weekends in a row and I just want to go to a movie with friends but Liz is insisting I watch the kids so she can watch _Labyrinth_ in peace. It's not fair!"

Fran's dad slid toward her and put a hand on her shoulder.

"I'll talk to Liz and see—"

"There you are!" Liz stormed into Fran's room, fury etched into every line and wrinkle on her face. "You owe me an apology, young lady!"

"Sorry for losing it and going off. I should've been calmer about it. Your turn."

"I do not have anything to apologize for, so don't give me that! Anthony, do you see how your daughter treats me?"

"Liz, honey, did you tell Fran she's a bitch just like Therese?"

Liz looked non-plussed. "I might have. Why?"

"That was just as wrong as Francie yelling at you. I'm with her on this one."

"You're _WHAT_? You agree with her? You're defending the fact she yelled at me and said horrible things? I can't believe you!" Liz glared at her husband, then spun on her heel and stalked down the hall to their room, crying loudly.

"I'm sorry, Francie," her dad said softly. "I'll try to go talk to her."

"Thanks." She smiled weakly. "I love you, Dad."

"Love you, too, honey." He kissed her forehead and stood up.

Francie flopped back on her bed and sighed. She didn't expect anything to change, but at least her dad was doing more than nodding and parroting Liz for once. Maybe it would achieve something. She could hope.

"I wish the goblins would get you and AJ out of my life," Fran murmured, smiling dryly "I wish they'd take you far, far away."

As Fran expected, her dad's weak attempts to talk reason into Liz didn't change anything.

It wasn't long after her dad started to try to talk to Liz that Liz was storming back into Fran's room and ripping into her for being lazy, ungrateful, selfish, and trying to get out of doing anything and make AJ do all the work and how he couldn't handle it because he was only nine and kids should have fun instead of working all the time.

"Liz," Fran said curtly, cutting Liz off mid-sentence, "if you're mad that Dad's telling you he thinks I shouldn't have to take care of the kids seven days a week so I can have more time to do homework and go out with friends once in a while, go take it out on him. It was _his_ idea to ask if you wouldn't mind if things changed, not mine. Believe it or not, he _is_ capable of thinking for himself and actually does so from time to time. I don't want to lose it again, so I'd really just rather get back to reading unless there's something not related to why I'm horrible you need to talk to me about."

Liz gave Fran a dirty look and then stalked from the room, most likely to find her husband and berate him for daring to think without her permission. Fran snorted softly and returned to the steamy adventures of Lady Chatterley—only to hear Liz yelling for her to get downstairs and wash the dinner dishes.

"Do them yourself. I didn't eat any of it," Fran muttered under her breath as she hurried downstairs.

AJ was at the table, attacking the remains of a large slice of blueberry pie. Most of his face, both his hands, and the entire plate were blue-purple with smeared pie filling. A fork had been abandoned in favor of picking up pieces of pie with his fingers. Occasionally, AJ wiped his fingers on the table, adding to the blue stickiness already there. Fran clenched her teeth and turned to the sink, furious that she'd be expected to clean up after AJ and Liz wouldn't say a single thing about the fact he ate like a savage, and her father wasn't likely to do more than say, "AJ, you shouldn't do that." Yeah, as if AJ was going to listen.

"MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!" The whine in AJ's voice grated on Fran's nerves and she felt her right eye start to twitch. "MOOOOOOOOOOOOM! MOMMY!"

"What? What is it, honey?" Liz, breathless and pale, hurried into the kitchen. "Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself? What's wrong?"

"She stuck her tongue out at me."

"Fran stuck her tongue out at you?"

'Oh, son of a—I am _so_ not in the mood for this,' Fran thought darkly as she turned around to face her smug-looking half brother and a furious stepmother.

"You're just being rude to everyone today, aren't you?" Liz snapped. "What's your problem? I don't care. Whatever it is, stop it right now. Get rid of it and be civil."

Fran wearily looked back and forth between Liz and AJ for a long moment before turning back around to the sink to start scrubbing pots and pans and dishes too large for the dishwasher.

A hand grabbed her shoulder and spun her around.

"I've had enough of you for today, young lady!"

"What, Liz? What now? What am I supposed to have done? All I did was turn back to the sink to start dishes. I didn't say anything; I didn't do anything other than turn to the sink. You tell me I'm lazy and trying to get out of work, and then when I come downstairs to wash dishes and attempt to do just that, I'm supposed to apologize for something I didn't do and when I turn to the sink to try to do what I came down here for in the first place, I can't even get started doing that, so just tell me what part of the turn offended you."

"How dare you turn your back to me before I'm done speaking to you. Fran, why are you so hostile today?" Liz's sudden switch from Megabitch to Wounded Child was disconcerting.

"Liz, I thought you were done, and I had no choice but to turn my back to you so I could work at the sink. I need to be facing it, and where you were standing, turning to face the sink meant you'd be looking at my back. I didn't mean anything by it other than I intended to start doing what I'd been asked to do, so can I please do it?"

Liz dropped her hand a moment later and strode from the kitchen. Fran sighed and turned back to the sink. Hopefully, it wouldn't take too long and then she'd go back upstairs, lock her door, and work on homework. If the kids went nuts, Liz could deal with them.

"You're in trouble, you're in trouble," AJ taunted from his place at the table. "Mommy always believes me. I could tell her you were kissing your boyfriend earlier and she'd believe me."

Fran ignored him, focusing on scrubbing out and filling the right side of the split sink with hot, soapy water.

"Didn't you hear me? I'm gonna tell Mommy you were kissing you boyfriend earlier. Ooh, Frannie Fanny's too afraid to say anything. She's a wimp. She's a wuss. She's afraid to say something because maybe then I'll yell and get you in more trouble."

"I just want to wash the dishes, AJ. Please leave me alone. Finish your pie and go play a video game or something." Fran heard the note of irritation in her voice and hoped it wouldn't set AJ off yelling and making up more lies.

"What're you gonna do if I wipe my hands and face on your shirt, Frannie Fanny?" AJ taunted as he brought his plate and fork over to the sink.

"Find the stain remover, change clothes, and put stain remover on—OH, MY GOD, YOU LITTLE FUCKER!" Fran whipped around as soon as she felt AJ grab the hem of her shirt and pull the fabric toward him to wipe his face and hands on. "What the hell is your problem, you little shit? You think you're cool because you harass everyone? You think I'm ignoring you because I'm afraid of you?" She put a hand against his chest and pushed him back up against the island. "You're nine. I'm fifteen. You're fat. I'm in shape. Do you really think I'm scared of a blob who's shorter than me? Just because I don't do anything doesn't mean I'm not able to. All you're doing with your taunts and lies is pissing me off and annoying me, just like you do with everyone at school. You have no friends because you're such an obnoxious brat no one wants anything to do with you." She smiled coldly. "How'd you like to go play with the goblins, AJ?"

"What're you talking about?" He made a pathetic attempt to look tough.

"Goblins. You know, like the ones in _Labyrinth_, the movie your mom's always watching."

"They don't scare me. They're just puppets."

"Are you sure?" Fran leaned over so her face was close to his. "I'm pretty sure I've heard something scurrying around at night and I saw a really odd shadow when I got up last night to use the bathroom. It was short and fat—shorter and fatter than you, even—and looked all lumpy and bumpy and I heard it cackling and laughing and then it went into your room."

AJ's eyes grew wider on 'your room' and his face lost more color, which didn't seem possible. "You're making all that up. I know you are. Mommy says none of that is real."

Fran shrugged casually. "Just because you don't see it doesn't mean it's not real. You don't see electricity but you know it's real. You can't see air but you know it's real. You believe in ghosts but you've never seen one." With her free hand, she pulled up the hem of AJ's shirt and wiped his face on it. "You should be real glad you didn't ruin a shirt I really like. Go wash up and go play a video game, and if you yell for your mom to tell her how mean I'm being I _will_ wish you away to the goblins. Understand? Good." She took her hand off AJ's chest.

"MOOOOOOMY!" AJ, smiling smugly, smeared his still-sticky hands all down the front of Fran's shirt. "Fran says she's going to beat me up real bad!"

"I warned you, brat. I'm going to enjoy this." She smiled ferally. "I wish the goblins would come and take you away right now."

One moment AJ was smirking at her, the next Fran was staring at empty space and the power went out.


	3. Chapter 3

For the record, the only place Fran had expected AJ to end up was in his room, as in that's where he'd end up when he ran, yelling and crying, from the kitchen to get away from the goblins Fran wanted to sic on him. In theory, the idea of wishing away AJ to the goblins was Fran's fondest wish, right above meeting her mother.

She'd put her desire into writing the year before in a short story that was nothing more than the first part of _Labyrinth_, only with some details changed and a decidedly un-movie-like ending in which the main character decides, after further consideration, to leave her brother among his own kind as he was already a goblin in all but appearance, making it would be a win-win for everyone, Above- and Underground (except the stepmother, if she even remembered the brat), so the main character apologizes to the Goblin King for arguing with him, takes the offered crystal from his outstretched hand, and heads back to her room to read.

Unlike the thousands of others who'd also ripped off the movie and only changed the names, though, Fran never suffered the delusion that what she'd written was in any way original or creative—except maybe the ending but that was only a few sentences so it didn't count in Fran's mind. She admitted it was a rip-off and that she'd written it to burn off some anger and frustration, and for the vicarious thrill of being able to get rid of AJ in a way that wouldn't get her in lots of trouble. Also, she didn't immediately post her error-filled first draft in an online story archive for millions to read, adding a note at the bottom for people to please review or she'd never write anything else ever again. She wouldn't have put a note like that on it, anyway. The only writing she did was school assignments and she chose her hobbies based on what she enjoyed, not how much praise and attention she received. The only people she'd shown the story to were a few of her closest friends and her English teacher, Mr. May, who was cool and wouldn't go nuts and call her parents because he thought Fran was going to do something horrible to AJ. Even though he was thirty, he hadn't forgotten how annoying his younger brothers had been and how there were times when he'd wanted to get rid of them forever because they drove him nuts, and he understood how your parents can drive you crazy and seem totally unfair. He listened and didn't judge you or tell you that someday you'd look back on all this and smile and other garbage like that and he never told anyone what you said to him unlike the school psychologist so Fran went to him when she needed to talk to an adult.

A brother disappearing in a story was an occasion for great celebration (and a plot device frequently—and poorly—used by novice writers, something Fran was unaware of). A brother disappearing right in front of you in real life was an occasion to wonder what, exactly, had been in the Turkey Surprise at lunch because people just did not vanish like that. The power dying could've been due to a chipmunk or something getting into a transformer and shorting it out, but Fran doubted it. She'd seen enough movies and read enough novels to know that when the power died at the same time your brother disappeared, it meant one of two things: he'd just been zapped up by space aliens and you were probably next, or it was some kind of supernatural force and unless you had a really awesome power or something ancient that had something in a strange language carved on it you didn't stand a chance of ever getting your brother back and the only thing you could do is start praying whatever took him was only interested in annoying younger brothers. Or maybe this was just a dream. She'd fallen asleep and this was just a dream and this was nothing more than a crazy dream triggered by everything that happened earlier. In dreams, though, when everything went wrong you never wondered if the whole thing was just a dream.

"Good lord, it actually works!" Fran murmured, still staring at the spot where AJ had been. "It actually works!" She laughed.

"What happened? Where's AJ?" Liz's voice came from the dining room doorway.

"The castle beyond the Goblin City," Fran said brightly as she turned slightly to look at Liz. "Your little monster decided to use my shirt as a napkin—" she gestured to the dark streaks on the front of her shirt "—and I told him if he did anything else I'd wish him away to the goblins. Just to freak him out so he'd leave me alone. I didn't actually think it was real, but when AJ wiped his hands on my shirt again and yelled about how I was going to beat him up I kept my promise and wished for the goblins to come and take him." He smile grew. "And then he vanished and the power went out."

Liz stalked over to Fran and slapped her.

"Don't mock me! Where is your brother?"

"I told you, I wished the goblins would come and take him away and they did." Fran met Liz's eyes and stared at her, unblinking. Liz was the first to look away.

"You show me no respect," Liz whinged as she walked to the sliding glass doors that opened onto the deck. "I was never like you when I was fifteen."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Fran muttered under her breath.

"Since you won't give me a straight answer—" Liz unlocked the sliding doors and slid the right side open "—I guess I'll have to find him myself. It's a good thing the moon is full. At least there's some light to see by. Go get the emergency candles and flashlights and find your father." Liz walked out onto the deck, leaving the door open behind her.

"You'll be looking for a long time." Fran sighed and clapped her hands together. "Time to go dig out the candles and flashlights." Those were in the laundry room closet, so Fran turned and started toward the back hall.

Hearing what sounded like Liz's flats on the kitchen floor behind her, Fran rolled her eyes.

"You found him?" she asked but got no reply. "Liz?" She turned around, expecting to see a most disgruntled stepmother. "Holy shit!"

Fran stumbled back a step. "You're him, aren't you? You're the Goblin King!" Hollywood had gotten some of it right; he was tall and nearly white-blond and wore tight leggings (they were actually skintight leather trousers, but Fran couldn't tell in the dark and he wasn't there to talk about his wardrobe), but he did not have a mullet, he wasn't wearing eye shadow, he did _not _arrive in a shower of glitter, and he was a million times hotter than in the movie. Oh, and she really, really, _really_ liked his boots and—ohmygawd, she'd just quoted the movie. Fran hoped "You're him, aren't you? You're the Goblin King!" was the kind of thing most people said. It probably was. What else would you say when this really hot being in leather just suddenly showed up after you wished a particularly annoying person away to the goblins? She took a deep breath and released it slowly. She just had to stay calm and deal with it and find out what was going on with AJ.

"I want my brother back, please, if it's all the same." Fran slapped a hand over her mouth as her face flamed with mortificiation. That was _not_ what most people would say and she was so totally sounding like some pathetically obsessed fan when Liz was the one in need of a life. She'd just been forced to listen to the movie so many times she knew the script by heart.

A hint of a smile teased at Jareth's lips. "What's said is said." Oh, yes, he definitely thought she was a pathetic movie fan. Condescension and amusement fairly dripped off his words. He cocked his head slightly and in the moonlight coming in through the open door, Fran could see an expression that seemed to say "Well? It's your turn".

"But I didn't mean it." In Fran's mouth, the words came out as much more of a challenge than they had in the movie and there was a touch of resignation in her tone. Hasty words had gotten her in trouble before, but never this much. She shoved her hands in her pockets.

"Oh, you didn't?" Jareth's smile was larger now and he was regarding her with the kind of amusement she supposed cats regarded mice with right before eating them.

"Where is he?" As if she didn't know, but it was the next line from the movie and she'd have asked it at some point anyway, just to hear from him that AJ was at his castle.

"You didn't say 'please'." Jareth uncrossed his arms, clasped his hands together behind his back, and stepped out of the rectangle of moonlight streaming in through the open door toward her. Dressed in black, the shadows enveloped him and the only part of him Fran could see was his hair, pulled back neatly in a kind of complicated braid.

"That's not what comes next," Fran protested, walking over to the island. "That's not from the movie." Standing closer to him now, she could see that his eyes were some kind of pale steel blue or bluish-grey and some kind of design had been tattooed around his eyes. 'The movie got it partly right after all,' she thought with surprise. 'Someone was writing from personal experience.'

"You should have said 'please, where is he'. You didn't say 'please'." Jareth smiled and Fran shivered a bit. "It's also polite."

Cheeks flaming, Fran said, "Please, your Majesty, where is my brother?"

"That was not in the movie either, Françoise."

She shrugged. "My stepmother is the one obsessed with the movie, not me. You hear anything enough times it sticks in your mind."

Jareth said nothing for a long moment, making Fran very nervous.

"He's at your castle." It was a statement, not a question.

Jareth inclined his head slightly. "You know where he is. I don't believe I need to explain how to win the boy back." He put his hands on his hips and regarded her coolly.

"Not at all. I do have one question, though. How long do I have to think about if I actually want to get him back?"

"So you want time to consider it. What kind of sister are you?" he chided, a smile teasing at his lips again. "What would your mother say?"

"I don't know; she left when I was a baby. AJ's my half-brother."

"Oh, I see. Poor, poor Françoise, misunderstood and berated by a cold, unfeeling, demanding stepmother," he said, his dry sarcasm cutting like a knife, as he slowly closed the distance between them. "The family slave, your father does nothing to stop your wicked, evil stepmother from making a slave of you, piling demands on you day and night until you have no time for yourself, just like thousands of other poor, misunderstood, _spoiled_ little girls."

"Other than saying I'm a spoiled child who whines because she has to load the dishwasher twice a week, you're about right. Go ask Liz, my stepmother. She's in the back yard looking for AJ. I told her he was in the castle beyond the goblin city, but she didn't believe me." Fran smiled in spite of herself. "Maybe she'll believe you."

"Where are your rags, if you're the family slave?"

"I'm wearing them. AJ wiped his hands all over my shirt after he finished his blueberry pie, so rags is all it's good for now." She gestured to the dark blue damage AJ had caused.

Jareth looked less than impressed. "How old is the boy? Two or three?"

"No, nine." She emphasized 'nine'. "Old enough to know better."

Jareth acted as if she hadn't spoken. "I've brought you a gift." He pulled a crystal out of the air. "I'm sure you know what this is." The crystal seemed to move with a mind of its own, rolling down one arm and then suddenly appearing in the opposite hand only to glide to his other hand in one smooth motion.

"Of course. It's a crystal, nothing more; but if I turn it the right way and look into it, it will show me my dreams; but it's not a gift for an ordinary girl, who takes care of screaming babies. Which I'm not. Dad usually takes care of Toby when he's colicky."

"You have a baby brother named Toby?" A note of surprise and interest crept into his voice.

"And a younger sister named Beatrice who's three. Toby's six months and no—" she raised her eyes to his face "—I'm not going to wish him away to you."

"Whatever makes you think I would want that?"

"Just a hunch," she said, matching his dryly sardonic tone. "I'm not a little princess who thinks she's above taking care of siblings, your Majesty. I adore Bea and Toby and my only complaint about taking care of them is that Liz expects me to do every weekend so she can go out with Dad or watch her movie and drool over David Bowie wearing too much eye makeup." She rolled her eyes.

"You don't like how he portrayed me?"

"I didn't say that. I said I thought the makeup was excessive, but Liz says things were way over the top in the Eighties and that's why he looked like a drag queen. I also don't like that Liz puts a stupid movie above her kids and expects me to do her job for her. David Bowie, I have no problems with."

What Jareth thought of her comments, she couldn't tell. His expression of bored condescension never changed, not that she'd expected it to.

Jareth suddenly took a step toward Fran. "You've had your time to consider and I grow impatient. Which will it be? The boy or—" the crystal was suddenly in front of her face, resting lightly on the fingers of his outstretched hand "—your dreams?"

Fran felt torn in a thousand directions all at once. She wanted so badly be rid of AJ, to be free from his constant lies and harassment, to be free from having blame for what he'd done constantly dumped on her, to stop hearing Liz and Dad go on and on about how fabulous AJ was and what a sweet kid he'd grown up to be and seeing the smug triumph in his eyes because he knew he could get away with anything. He was her brother, though, and what kind of decent sister would she be if she took the crystal instead of trying to win him back? How could she just steal a child away from her dad and Liz? Liz drove her nuts and was blind to a fault about AJ, but she did love him and who was she to take away a child? How could she cause that kind of pain?

As if reading her mind, Liz began ranting loudly in the backyard about how she couldn't believe Fran would talk AJ into making Liz come downstairs and go outside to look for AJ and he was probably in his room and Fran was with him and they were both looking out the window laughing at her and Fran was going to be in a lot of trouble when Liz got back inside.

"Why would Francie do this?" Liz moaned. "Why would she make AJ do this to me? Filling his head with ideas of how to be mean, I know it! Maybe that's why he's getting in trouble at school. Her and those older boys he's always hanging around with. They're turning him into a hoodlum." Liz went around the side of the house then and Fran couldn't hear what she said, though she could guess.

"Well?" Jareth asked impatiently.

"If I don't try to win him back, will everyone here forget him?"

"If you want." He sounded as if he were starting to gloat.

"I do. One other thing."

"What?" His voice was icy.

She smiled. "You can keep the crystal. I want your boots."

The crystal stopped moving in his hand. "You want my _boots_?" Her request had clearly taken him by surprise and he sounded as if he couldn't believe he'd heard her correctly.

"Yeah. AJ's gone and that's a dream come true, and the rest…I appreciate the offer, truly, but I know what I need to do to make the rest of my dreams come true and I'd rather do that than just look at them. I have no idea where I'd ever be able to find boots like yours, though, and I probably wouldn't be able to afford them anyway."

He stared at her for a moment, and then let his head fall back as he started laughing. Fran watched, unsure if his laughter was a good thing. She really wanted the boots, but as long as he kept his word about making sure everyone forgot AJ had ever existed she'd be satisfied. That's all that really mattered in the end.

When he stopped laughing, Jareth, smirking a bit, threw the crystal at the ceiling. Fran cringed and waited for the sound of the sphere shattering and razor-edged shards making a small 'ting' as they landed on the floor and island, but there was silence. Warily, she opened her eyes and looked around but there was nothing and the ceiling showed no signs of having been hit by a solid crystal ball. Fran looked back at Jareth questioningly.

"If only all girls your age were as easy to please," he said archly. "After I leave, no one, including yourself, will have any memory the boy ever existed. My _boots_—" his lips twitched as if he wanted to start laughing again "—are in your closet. I do hope you like dark brown."

"Works for me!" she said brightly. "Thank you. For everything."

Just as Jareth was turning to leave, Liz walked in, muttering under her breath. She glanced in Fran and Jareth's direction, then suddenly stopped dead and looked back over at them again.

"Who the hell are you?" Liz demanded. "What are you doing in my house? Francie, who is this man and why did you invite him in here without permission? Why haven't you gotten the candles and flashlights and taken them upstairs? I'm sure your brother and sister are terrified, in the dark, all alone! Shame on you! As for you, sir, who are you and what are you doing here and why are you with my daughter?" She put her hands on her hips and glared at Jareth. "What are you doing dressed up like a movie character? Are you some freak Francie met online? Is there some costume party Francie didn't tell me about? Francie, were you going to sneak out without telling me or your father? Didn't you think your father and I would be worried sick about you? Really, Francie, you need to think about others! You're as bad as your mother, always thinking only of yourself and not caring how you hurt others!" She advanced on Jareth. "I want to know who you are and what you're doing here and I am definitely calling the police. ANTHONY! GET DOWN HERE!"

"You have police upstairs. How convenient." Jareth's sarcasm was only caught by Fran, who had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing. Liz looked at him like he was a complete moron.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" Liz asked again, irritation heavy in her voice.

Jareth swept into a dramatic bow. "Jareth, King of the Goblins," he said silkily. "Your—Françoise requested my assistance with your son, AJ."

"Do you really expect me to believe that?" Liz snapped, fixing Jareth with a steely glare. "I don't know who you are but you can leave now. Expect to be reported to the police. ANTHONY! GET DOWN HERE _NOW_!"

"Perhaps he's busy arresting someone else." Jareth's sarcasm was unmistakable. A crystal silently 'pop'd into being above his head and gently dropped down into his open palm and he began to absentmindedly play with it. "Françoise declined my offer, but perhaps you would be interested in your dreams." The crystal rolled up onto his fingertips as he extended his hand toward Liz. "No strings attached."

"Nice party trick." Liz regarded Jareth's gift scornfully. "Maybe the rest of your victims go for it, but neither Francie nor I are stupid enough to be sucked in by a drag queen doing juggling tricks. Get lost." She strode over to the kitchen phone and picked it up. "This is me, calling the police." She dialed quickly, speaking a moment later. "Hello? Yes, my daughter let some drag queen freak into the house and I'm afraid he's someone she met on line who's going to hurt her so send someone over to 739 Pinewood Terrace." Pause. "My name is Elizabeth Caine. My daughter is Françoise Caine and she's fifteen." Pause. "Yes, he was here when I walked inside and my husband is upstairs." Pause. "No, the freak won't leave and I've told him to several times. No, he hasn't threatened me or anyone else." Long pause. "Yes, thank you." She hung up.

"'A drag queen doing juggling tricks'?" Jareth said, his tone heavy with indignant fury. "How _dare_ you mock me!"

Liz put her hands on her hips and glared at him.

"Save it. You're not the Goblin King, so cut the crap. He's just a character Jim Henson made up in the 80s and you're crazy if you think anyone's going to believe you're him. Great costume, great juggling tricks, but I'm not buying it. You may have suckered Francie in—"

"It's 'Fran'," Fran interrupted. "I want to be called Fran, not Francie. I'm not six anymore and this is the Goblin King, Liz. AJ did vanish after I wished him away to the goblins and then Jareth arrived. I didn't think it would happen but it did and this really is Jareth, King of the Goblins so listen to him."

Liz turned the glare on Fran. "I can't believe you're foolish enough to buy into his story, Francie. I can't believe you think it's real! AJ's just hiding somewhere and I know you and him are playing some kind of joke on me. Is that what this guy is here for? Your joke, to pretend to be the Goblin King?" Liz shook her head sadly. "You two really got carried away and went overboard. You better hope AJ comes out soon because the longer he's gone, the more trouble you're going to be in for dragging him into this."

"IT'S NOT A JOKE, LIZ! This is real! AJ is gone and you're pissing off the Goblin King! I'm serious! This isn't a joke! You know AJ couldn't have kept quiet this long. This is real! You have to believe me!" Closing her eyes, Fran gripped her head and silently wished Liz would realize she was telling the truth. "If it was a joke, which it isn't, why would I be the only one in trouble? AJ would be the one hiding and making you worry and you know he doesn't have to be dragged into anything or forced to play any prank. He loves that kind of stuff and you know it."

Liz's glare deepened. "No, this isn't a joke, Francie. This isn't funny anymore and you are most definitely in trouble. Your brother is very young and impressionable and easily persuaded to do things and I do _not_ know that he loves to play pranks. He's a sweet kid who'd never do anything to hurt anyone, so go and tell him to come out _now_ and make your friend in costume go away. You are in a lot of trouble and when your father gets down here you'll be in even more."

"You don't believe me? Fine. You can see for yourself. I wish the goblins would come and take you away to be with AJ right now!" Fran exclaimed in a rush, anger driving her words.

There was a clap of thunder so loud Fran felt the house vibrate through her shoes and the lights flickered, coming back on full strength as the vibrations faded.

Liz, who had been standing two feet from Fran just ten seconds ago, had vanished. Fran shifted her eyes to the Goblin King, who was smirking with a kind of smug satisfaction.

"What happened to Bea and Toby?" Fran asked as the implications of Liz's disappearing began to sink in."

"Nothing. They're still asleep upstairs, unless…." Jareth let the sentence trail off. "Just say the words."

"No, I don't want them gone." Fran shook her head. "Dad needs someone. He'd be a mess on his own and I'd have to take care of the house and Bea and Toby mostly on my own and I'm stick of having to do that. I know you can reorder time, so can you give Toby and Bea and me a different—better stepmother? The woman he works with, Julia, is pretty cool and she's single and she likes all of us and she and Dad get along really well." She smiled. "I always wished he'd divorce Liz and marry her, so could you make it so she's our stepmother?"

Jareth stared at Fran for what felt like half an hour, expression inscrutable. Finally, he spoke.

"Would you have me move the stars as well?" he asked lightly, tone mocking.

"I wouldn't ask for something I know you never do. If it'll just be me and Dad taking care of Bea and Toby, we'll manage. I just…I don't know." She sighed and shrugged. "It would be nice if Julia could be our mom, that's all. She'd make Dad happy and she'd be better than Liz, I know it, that's all."

Jareth laughed. "A girl who does not wish for me to move the stars for her? You are an odd girl, Françoise. You amuse me. When you wake tomorrow, you will have your new stepmother and no memories of the old." He smiled ferally. "For your sake, you would do well to leave me in peace after this, little girl. If I must answer a summons from you again, I will not be so obliging next time."

"But what if I need boot polish or the boots wear out?" Fran exclaimed, blushing when she realized what she'd said. "Nevermind. That was stupid."

Jareth, never taking his eyes from her, pulled a crystal from the air and tossed it to her. When she touched it, it turned into a small, heavy pouch.

"Leather polish," he said evenly. "The boots will never need repair. They are made to withstand far worse than you will ever do to them. They will still be in excellent condition when your children's children's children are wearing them."

"Thank you," she said. "I won't bother you again, your Majesty."

He inclined his head slightly before vanishing, a small amount of glitter on the floor the only sign anything out of the ordinary had happened that evening.


	4. Epilogue

Fur. Fur that tasted vaguely of popcorn and dirt. Somewhere in the deep recesses of her otherwise-slumbering brain, the presence of fur in Fran's mouth registered and that small piece of grey matter quickly determined cat fur wouldn't satisfy the body's demand for oxygen and prompted Fran's body to roll over, which disturbed the purring calico owner of aforementioned cat fur named Buttons. Buttons, in typical feline fashion, gave Fran's sleeping form a dirty look and walked across Fran's head so she could settle in front of her human slave's face again, making sure her back end was shoved right under Fran's nose. Buttons, annoyed Fran hadn't gotten her permission before she stopped warming Buttons' belly, felt making sure the human had to smell the stinkiest part of her was entirely appropriate. Hopefully the human would learn her lesson and get Buttons' permission next time. Training humans could be difficult but it was worth it if done right and the earlier you started, the better, which was why Buttons planned to soon start training the youngest human slave, Bea.

The smell of Button's rear end quickly registered in Fran's brain, which quickly roused itself with only one goal in mind: Get away from the stink.

"Oh, geez, Buttons, that's gross!" Fran said sleepily when she realized she was looking at Buttons' butt. "Stupid cat." She picked up Buttons and set her down at the end of the bed. "I so hope—"

Fran's alarm began to blare, shocking her entirely alert. With a smack that seemed a bit too aggressive, Fran hit the 'Snooze' button and fell backwards onto the bed.

"I so don't want to go to school," she moaned under her breath. She had a huge math test she hadn't had time to study for because she'd been out the last three nights with Brian, her boyfriend, and if she didn't spend study hall working on her research paper about Elizabeth I she'd never get it done on time. "I can't wait to graduate next month!"

Fran's door suddenly burst open, hitting the wall with a loud 'BANG!' and, with a shout, a small figure ran into the room and launched itself up onto the bed and on top of Fran.

"You awake?" the boy asked brightly.

"I am now," Fran grumbled. "Get off me, AJ. I haven't been to the bathroom yet and if you don't move _now_ I'll pee on you."

"EWWW!" AJ scrambled backward off the bed. "That's sick, Fran! I'm telling Mommy you said you'd pee on me!"

Fran laughed. "Go ahead. She'll tell you that you deserve it for jumping on me!" She watched the oldest of her younger sibs run off, shouting for his mom, who was Fran's stepmom, Julia. He was a bundle of energy and mischief, like most nine-year-old boys, and Julia and Fran's dad had managed to hold him still long enough growing up to teach him enough manners to charm his way out of most minor trouble. When he wasn't running around outside with his friends or shouting "GOTCHA! DIE!" at the top of his voice while playing video games, he was a sweet kid who liked playing with their youngest brother, Toby, and telling the baby about all the cool things he and AJ would do when Toby was older, including tormenting Bea, who was three and AJ's favorite target of pranks and teasing when he didn't think his parents were paying attention.

Fran's dad had married Julia not long after Fran's third birthday. Fran, used to having her daddy all to herself, was wary and suspicious of Julia when her dad started dating the short, dark-haired woman with the big smile and bigger laugh but it hadn't taken Fran long to warm up to Julia, who loved to play House and Pretend and give piggyback rides and push Fran real high on the swings at the park and, best of all, didn't talk to Fran like she was stupid or didn't understand things and she always took Fran seriously and listened to what she had to say and she made Fran's daddy happy, so when Julia became her stepmom Fran was happy about it.

Julia never pushed Fran to call her 'Mom', but Fran did anyway because Julia seemed more like her mom than her real mother, who was busy running her company and spending time with her new husband and their beagles and didn't seem to have much time for Fran. It hurt Fran some that her real mom never seemed to want to see her or talk to her, but as she'd grown up, Fran had come to understand that her real mom had wanted a career not kids, and was more comfortable talking to other businessmen and –women than she was with kids. Maybe when she was older she and her mom could have some kind of relationship. Fran had tried to talk to her dad about her real mom but her dad hated conflict and difficult things and she hadn't gotten very far with him, so Julia was the one she went to when she was confused and hurting and upset. Julia, other than saying Fran's mom was missing out on knowing a fabulous and talented girl, kept her opinions to herself and encouraged Fran to try and have some contact with her mom and a friendly relationship, and she'd helped Fran a few times to call her mom at work. The few times Fran had shouted, "You're not my mom!" at Julia when she was upset, Julia had replied, "No, I'm not, but I'm still in charge" or something like that. Fran, when she calmed down, would apologize and Julia always forgave her.

Fran heard AJ babbling on to Julia in their parents' room at the far end of the upstairs hall and when he stopped, she heard Julia tell him he'd have deserved it and to go get dressed for school. Fran grinned and went over to her closet to get her school uniform out. Julia was a way cool mom.

For some reason, Fran's eyes were drawn down to the floor of her closet and an unfamiliar pair of what looked like leather riding boots. Extremely expensive and absolutely gorgeous dark brown leather riding boots, to be exact.

"Dad!" she yelled, gaze fixed on the boots. "DAD! Did you get me those boots I liked at the mall last week?"

"Don't yell, Fran," her father chided when he stuck his head through the doorway a moment later. "You have two legs; you can walk down the hall. What were you saying?"

"Did you get me those boots I liked at the mall last week?"

"Those 600 ones? No, of course not. We don't have that kind of money to waste. Why?"

"Nothing. Nevermind. Thought I saw a new pair of boots in here, that's all. Nevermind." Fran knelt down and cautiously reached forward until her fingers brushed the leather upper of the boot, stiff and glossy from polishing. Where had they come from?

A jumble of mental pictures suddenly cartwheeled through her mind's eye, of an angry blonde woman yelling at her and a fat, bratty AJ blaming her for things she hadn't done and an older woman with a huge nose saying "Call me Gramma Elly, Francie!" and of a tall man with too much eye shadow and a frizzy white-blond mullet and something about wishing away AJ and her stepmother and wanting the boots instead of her dreams.

Fran shook her head slightly to clear her mind. The pictures seemed familiar in a way she couldn't quite put a finger on. Must've been dreams, she decided. I dreamed all that stuff last night and forgot about it and the boots were in there and that's why I'm thinking of it. She'd talk to Julia later about where the boots had come from and laugh with her over forgetting something as fabulous as where she'd gotten her new boots. As soon as she remembered she was telling all her friends where to go because these were some really great knockoffs. She was so definitely going to wear them today. Merrie Patterson would be green with envy over how fabulous Fran's new boots were. Merrie's parents bought her everything she wanted and she took great pleasure in rubbing everyone's nose in the fact she had designer clothes and drove a Mustang, but today it was Merrie's turn to stare and be jealous. Maybe she'd steal away Merrie's boyfriend just like Merrie had stolen Fran's boyfriend last year for no other reason than Merry, the biggest skank in school, felt like it.

At school, Marcie's jaw dropped when she saw Fran's boots. "Whoa! Those are, like, some hot boots!"

"I know! My parents got them for me and put them in my closet as a surprise. Dad denies buying them, but I didn't so where else did they come from? A vortex opened in my closet and dumped them out?" Both girls laughed. "I can't wait to see Merrie the Slut's reaction. She's gonna be furious someone has hotter, better shoes than she does."

"She's going to be, like, soooo jealous and hate you forever." Marcie giggled. "You have to, like, tell me all about it if I'm not there, okay?"

"Absolutely." Fran's cell vibrated in her coat pocket. "Just a sec." She took it out and flipped it open to see who was calling.

A text message was on the screen.

"Dark brown suits you, my dear. I will give you my pants and riding crop as well if you know how to silence Elizabeth Patterson and her obnoxious spawn. Yours, J"

Confused, Fran read the message out loud to Marcie.

"I am so going to change my number," Fran vowed. "What kind of freak would text that kind of stuff? His pants and riding crop? Damn!"

"Sounds, like, kinky. Too bad it's not Brian," Marcie sighed.

"Maybe it is. Maybe it's just a joke." Fran laughed with relief. "I'll ask him about this later. He's in so much trouble. I like the riding crop idea, though. I want to know what his problem with Miss Patterson is, though. We haven't had to deal with her in years, thank God." Fran rolled her eyes. "I so hated having her as a teacher. She treated all of us like we were stupid little simps and talked to us with this really sugary tone of voice and could've taken her own lessons on grammar and good English. I was so bored all year in her class and I _hated_ her treating me like I was some kind of special case just because I was two years younger than everyone else because I'd skipped two grades. She treated me like I was some kind of freak and different from everyone else and couldn't possibly have any friends so she'd be my friend, and she took it real personal when I wasn't interested in spending my lunch period with her or doing things with her instead of hanging out with my friends." The girls snickered. "I'm smart, not some kind of major freak everyone runs away from, screaming."

"Maybe that's why she's not married," Marcie suggested slyly. "No one can, like, stand to be around her. They all run away, screaming."

"They can't stand her or her son. No wonder her husband left her. I'd leave, too, if I had to put up with that brat. He's fat and nasty and is always eating and she lets him get away with everything. She and my dad used to date, you know." Fran nodded when Marcie looked at her with surprise. "In high school but they broke up in college and then she went up to teach in the middle of nowhere and he got married to my mom. She moved back here after her husband left her. Julia heard Miss Patterson's mom going on and on about it when she was getting a checkup from Miss Patterson's dad, who's a dentist. I heard Julia telling Dad that Elly Patterson is such a loudmouth and doesn't know when to shut up and she couldn't believe Elly Patterson wasn't keeping her voice down, talking about personal information like that about her daughter and Elly has no one but herself to blame for everyone in town knowing Liz Patterson's business because it's hard not to hear when someone's practically screaming. I am _so_ glad my dad and her never got back together." Fran shuddered. "I'd kill myself if she was my stepmother. That or beg the Goblin King to come take her away. He's from a movie Julia likes to watch," Fran explained. "The main character wishes her brother away to the goblins and the Goblin King comes to convince her to take a crystal that has her dreams in it instead of running the labyrinth to try and rescue her brother. It's from the Eighties so the special effects are really corny and the Goblin King wears way too much makeup, but it's not a horrible movie."

"My mom watched that one years ago. I thought it was so cheesy."

Fran shrugged. "To each their own. The bell's going to ring soon. Call me after school, 'kay?" She hurried off to her homeroom before Marcie answered, already knowing the answer.


End file.
